


cigarette

by esoterpsi



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Implied Sexual Content, Mild Language, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 14:54:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15051608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esoterpsi/pseuds/esoterpsi
Summary: just your average interaction between two young women





	cigarette

The creak of the sliding door disturbs the girl in front of you as you step out into the cold night air. She turns to see who it is, a cigarette dangling from her slender fingers, and as she registers who you are her mild curiosity melts into an expression of disdain.

“What do _you_ want?” she whispers - almost hisses - and you fight back a grin.

“Someone’s cranky,” you drawl in a sing-song voice, the one you know she can’t stand. Her head tilts up, and her narrowed eyes glint an icy blue as they meet yours.

_Ah._

“Call me ‘cranky’ again and I’ll slap you.” The threat is routine at this point, but she still speaks it with the same venom as ever. You take a moment to admire her dedication before answering.

“Ah yes, my shins are still sore from last time.” You know the height jokes bother her immensely, and this comes in the form of her sharp intake of breath and her quick turning away. Provoking the short girl was almost like a sport now, and these signs of irritation were the reward you seeked every time the two of you interacted.

Deciding to cease with your teasing for now, you lean on the railing next to her and watch her from the corner of your eye as she exhales, dark tendrils of iron-grey smoke exiting her lungs and curling around her like an ethereal mist, before finally disappearing into the distance. You’d always thought there was something paradoxically romantic in the girl next to you; the combination between her small stature and innocent, unguarded appearance and the ruthless malevolence she acted upon immediately created an unexplainable desire within you. You’d described this to her once, and she’d spat at you with nothing but hatred in those hypnotic, gunmetal blue eyes.

_God_ , those eyes made you want to do things, horrible, unspeakable things. Every time you saw them, the urge grew stronger, and you grew increasingly unable to control it - this desire to taint, to harm, _to destroy._

You wonder if she’d even notice if you lost control. The reasonable part of you hopes she wouldn’t. The rest of you wants her to more than anything.

The sound of fingers clicking snaps you out of your trance, and you immediately notice that she's closer. Was this intentional? Your eyes flicker from the hand she's holding mere inches from your face - the cigarette dangerously close, pointing straight between your eyes - to her face, where nothing is shown but disinterested apathy. Was she going to burn you if you hadn’t regained your composure? You have no way of telling. Either way, you step back briskly, your back hitting the wooden railing in an embarrassingly undignified move. Heat had never been good to you, and it feels like even the small glow from the quickly burning cigarette is overwhelmingly oppressive (or maybe it's just your suddenly flushed self).

You may know her weakness, but she loves to remind you she also knows yours.


End file.
